


Hellraiser: Preview Six

by Brandonatron0711



Series: Hellraiser [6]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:17:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brandonatron0711/pseuds/Brandonatron0711
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew spend their Friday at the Thunderdome, competing for the coveted Tower of Pimps in a challenge of strength. However, something wicked lurks in the area, leading to yet more trauma for Ryan and a terrifying development in his dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hellraiser: Preview Six

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Ghost Ray reference in this one, with a slightly darker twist.
> 
> A/N: We’re fast approaching the depth of the storyline, soon enough the real fun will begin with more MadKing!Ryan, Demon!Edgar, death, blood and horrific storyline to follow.
> 
> A/N: This is another direct follow-on chapter, no missing chunk here because I really wanted to upload this section.
> 
> A/N: Next chapter, when I get around to writing it, will feature some serious mental breakdown shit, violence and all kinds of terror for Ryan. Cliffhanger alert!

As he and Gavin left the house, he saw the rest of his friends gathered in the main square of downtown AchievementCity, deep in discussion. Jack looked up from, saw the pair approaching and nudged Geoff, who looked towards Jack questioningly. The latter pointed at Ryan and Gavin and the group glanced up. A smile spread across all of their faces and they wandered over.  
“Hey Ryan,” Geoff smiled brightly. “Glad to see you back up on your feet, man.”  
Ryan nodded happily. “You can thank Jack for that, he did a pretty damn good job with the resources he had.”  
Jack grinned, slightly embarrassed. “It wasn’t that much,” he insisted. “All I did was a bit of antivenom administration and some basic patch-up work.”  
Ryan laughed at his humility. “C’mon, buddy, give yourself some credit. I know I wouldn’t be quick-witted enough to manage that treatment, especially with my little… outburst.”  
Gavin nodded in agreement. “Neither would I!” he contributed.  
“Yeah, we know that, Gavin,” Michael said. He was wearing bearskin armour and had a rare diamond sword hanging in the sheath on his back. His curly dark auburn hung out from the rim of his hood and he wore a blue shirt and yellow trousers underneath. If it weren’t for the fact that he was tough enough to tear a man limb from limb, one might find his getup slightly comical.  
Gavin stuck up his nose in protest at the remark as Ray, a supposedly Hispanic but shockingly fair-skinned young man with glasses, a thin beard and a very classy tuxedo outfit, complete with a rose on the lapel, shouted “Got ‘em!” from behind Geoff and Jack.  
Michael walked over to Gavin, gave him a playful nudge and took over, taking the place beside Ryan. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you tonight, alright Ryan?” he said.  
Ryan nodded understandingly. Michael was definitely one he could trust to keep a close eye on him, he wouldn’t falter if something weird happened and he certainly wouldn’t fall asleep. “Sounds good to me. Always an honour to have the protection of the mighty Mogar.”  
“Yeah, so long as he doesn’t wimp out and turn into Rungar,” Gavin remarked.  
Michael glared murderously at Gavin, who retreated rapidly to cower behind Geoff, who was now a giggling wreck over the situation. Michael snorted with satisfaction then patted Ryan on the shoulder. “You can count on me, buddy!” he said eagerly.

“Alright, everybody,” Geoff shouted, finally recovering from his laughing fit. “It’s Friday, you know what that means.”  
Everybody glanced at Ray. Every Friday, the group competed in some type of game, be it an obstacle course, a combat tournament or any given weird match, for a trophy lovingly dubbed the Tower of Pimps. And every time they prepared to embark on the journey to such a competition, Ray had a tendency to obnoxiously shout the words “Let’s play!” It had become something of an expectation of him, really.  
Ray cleared his throat, everyone staring at him expectantly.  
“…so this is a Let’s Play,” he said calmly.  
“God damn it, Ray,” Geoff said, “I swear, you’re such a cockbite about that sometimes.”  
“Hey man, I just do what I do, which is whatever feels right,” he said sassily, to which Geoff rolled his eyes.  
Geoff launched into his explanation but barely got half a sentence out before Ray had a change of heart and screamed his one-liner at the top of his lungs. Geoff’s face turned dark and he glared angrily ahead of him. “You done now, Ray?” he asked venomously.  
“Yeah, go ahead, buddy,” Ray laughed, laying the smartass behaviour on quite heavily.  
“Alright, should there be no more interruptions… Today’s competition is a little thing I like to call the Thunderdome,” Geoff announced proudly. “Now, given that Ryan’s too injured to compete, he’ll be manning the logistics and controlling the event. Ryan, I’ll give you a run-through of what you’ll need to do on the way there. Everyone else, all you’ll need to do is punch the shit out of each other in a combat arena until one of you gives in. Simple, right?”  
“So in other words, Michael wins,” Jack laughed.  
“Yeah, more or less,” Geoff teased. “It’ll be one-on-one, we’ll decide the order of competition once we get there. For every round won, the winner can choose a chest from a large selection to the side of the arena. Each chest will contain something that could help you with your fight. It could be a tool or weapon, armour, food or something random that, if you’re a clever motherfucker, could be used to fuck with your opponent. There are also a select few chests containing one gold block. The winner will be the first person to get four gold blocks and assemble the Tower of Pimps on their podium. Obviously, the winner will stay in the ring until they lose. No food apart from that you get from the chests, no rest, nothing. You fight until you can’t fight anymore and you don’t get to replace any tools or armour you earn. Pretty much, survival of the dude who can get the shit kicked out of him the hardest.”  
“Yeah, Michael’s got this in the bag,” Gavin smirked.

Together, they made their way from AchievementCity to the Thunderdome Arena. Geoff had explained Ryan’s simple task to him. Due to his injury, they agreed it would be best for him to forgo competing this week in favour of letting his wounds heal. As such, he was assigned with sealing the gate during each competition and removing the emptied chests to avoid confusion. The competition went off fairly smoothly, up until something rather paranormal happened.  
In the middle of one of the battles, something appeared in the stands. Something unusual. It wandered through the arena and phased through the floor, occasionally soaring above the heads of the competitors at random. And the strangest thing of all was that this unusual apparition looked just like Ray.  
“Uhhh, Ray?” Michael shuddered. “What the hell is this thing?”  
Ray was preoccupied with his competition. “What thing? What are you talking about?”  
Gavin shrieked as the phantom appeared suddenly, crawling up from the floor with its dead eyes aimed directly at Ryan. It swooped over the arena and hovered behind him. Ryan stiffened as his friends watched in horror. He held completely still as the figure lingered at his shoulder, a ghastly hand grasping his arm, its cold, dead face looming next to his with its icy, ominous lips whispering words only Ryan could hear.

_Ryan Haywood…_ the voice hissed. _You… you are the one whose house rests on the ground of the heretic. YOU are the one who desecrates the altar of dark worship with your homestead. You, Ryan Haywood, are a blasphemer.  
Leave me alone! _ Ryan shouted, his lips sealed shut but his voice ringing in his own mind as clearly as a bell.  
The ghastly voice wheezed with laughter and continued. _Ryan Haywood,_ it growled, _your city will burn and your friends, they will die. Ryan Haywood, my master will have his revenge for your sacrilege. Ryan Haywood, your punishment will be much slower than that of your friends, and much colder than the sweet embrace of the reaper of souls. You, Ryan Haywood, are doomed.  
_ The ghost twirled almost gleefully around him, laughing in its exhausted rasping voice. _His revenge begins tonight, Ryan Haywood. You had best be prepared, although nobody can protect you from the wrath of the lord of fury. And with no-one to help you and no ability to help yourself, what are you, Ryan Haywood, but a lowly infant, desperate for the warmth of a mother’s embrace that will never come? You, Ryan Haywood, will never escape._  
Without warning, the ominous figure vanished, leaving Ryan quivering, slumped against the Thunderdome gate helplessly.

“Ryan?” Michael’s voice pleaded. “RYAN?! Come on buddy, wake up!”  
Ryan flinched, his eyes fluttering as the loud voice broke the vice grip that his encounter had taken on him.  
“Ryan, what the fuck just happened?” Michael demanded.  
“I… I don’t… I…” Ryan stammered feebly. “He said tonight. Tonight is when it’ll happen. Tonight. Doomed.”  
“Ryan, what’s going on? What’s happening tonight? What do you mean by doomed?” Geoff interrogated, a stern, authoritative but caring, fatherly tone of voice resounding in his tone.  
Ryan’s lip quivered and he broke down, tears streaming from his eyes, his back heaving erratically as he sobbed.  
“I don’t know, Geoff,” he cried. “I don’t know.”

After declaring Michael the victor and calling the rest of the competition off, the group made their way back to AchievementCity. Michael had helped Ryan along as he struggled to keep his arms steady while using the crutches. Although the return journey had taken much longer than the initial one, they arrived home before the dangers of nightfall arrived. They went their separate ways, everybody looking concernedly at Ryan, who had gone deathly pale and had not stopped shuddering since his paranormal encounter.  
Michael opened the door and guided Ryan in slowly. Edgar raised his head curiously, cocking it to the side when he saw Ryan. Edgar stood up while Ryan weakly struggled for a smile, failing to fool Edgar’s surprising intuition. As Michael laid Ryan onto his bed and took his crutches for him, Edgar wandered to the bedside and mooed forlornly, before lying down beside Ryan.  
Michael took a seat on the opposite wall. “Alright Ryan, you get some rest. I’ll be sure to keep an eye out and I’ll do what I can to wake you if you seem like you’re having a nightmare, okay buddy? Don’t you worry, Mogar’s got you covered,” he said with a sly wink.  
Ryan smiled faintly. “Thanks Michael. You’re the best.”  
With a yawn, Ryan slipped into an unsatisfying unconsciousness.

It was the middle of the night when Ryan suddenly sat bolt upright in his bed, startling Michael as he sat watch.  
“Ryan…?” he whispered, frightened.  
Ryan didn’t respond. He scrambled back in his bed, his eyes closed tightly with his expression displaying a terrible fear.  
“Ryan, snap out of it!” Michael shouted, walking over to the bed with his sword partially drawn.  
Ryan was firmly pressed against the wall and his head was swivelling and turning frantically, as if he was searching the room for something.   
Then he started to scream.  
“SHOW YOURSELF!” he shouted into nothingness.  
Michael grabbed Ryan by the shoulders and shook him desperately, but his eyes remained just as firmly sealed as ever. “Fucking damn it,” Michael swore, looking frenetically around the room for something to try and stir Ryan from his nightmare.

_The shadows were curling and crawling ominously from the depths of the newly formed pit in Ryan’s house, malicious tentacles of absolute, unparalleled darkness taking the room entirely in their grip. The light in the room was chased away until there was nothing but a perpetual darkness which made the bounds of his home seem endless, the walls fading into the blackness. Ryan felt the illusion of falling, tumbling endlessly in the shadow despite his back being firmly pressed against the wall. He cowered on his bed, his eyes frantically searching for any source of light, any indication of a way to escape, but alas, there was none._

Oh, God, no, _Ryan thought, horrified. His nightmare had become reality._


End file.
